


i'm an expert, i'm the one

by irisnebula



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Summoning, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27521794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisnebula/pseuds/irisnebula
Summary: Ayda Aguefort is a graduate student researching archdevils for her thesis. Fig Faeth has recently become an archdevil. Through summoning circles, contracts, and highly academic research, the two get to know each other.Or, five times Ayda summons Fig, and the one time Fig summons her right back.
Relationships: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. Expert Opinion

**Author's Note:**

> title from "touch-tone telephone" by lemon demon

Ayda Aguefort only believed in luck to the extent that luck was, in fact, a real phenomenon that existed in the planar system in which she resided. Over the course of her studies, he had read of several individuals who had access to inexplicable "luck" with a tendency to kick in at just the right moments. The reasoning for this phenomenon had, of course, been widely theorized on, and the current leading opinion was that it likely had something to do with those individuals being favored by some sort of deity or other reality-warping being. However, it may have also been a psychological trait that activated alongside a fight-or-flight response that produced extraordinary performance under extraordinary circumstances.

Up to this point, Ayda had made a concerted effort to abstain from being favored by, or in fact observed in any way by, deities or other reality-warping beings. And according to her research, no such “lucky” trait had ever activated in her own psyche under states of psychological duress. As such, it was statistically likely that her luck, in the capacity that such a factor existed at all, was unremarkable and generally average in every way.

However, if she were of the type to speculate about having a certain streak of rotten luck, which of course she was not, there was some evidence present in her life to suggest that she had, as many-a self-pitying protagonist had put it, “been dealt a bad hand.”

All this to say, when her attempts to summon a devil from the Nine Hells failed to bring forth the experienced and much-speculated-on pit fiend Gorthalax the Insatiable, ruler of the Bottomless Pit, Ayda was not particularly surprised. Honestly, if she had somehow managed to summon a major devil likely using an unvetted arcane ritual from an obscure ancient tome on her first try,  _ that _ would have been more of a surprise.

What Ayda found significantly more surprising was that she had managed to summon anything at all.

“‘Sup?” said the being currently standing on the pentacle in Ayda's bedroom.

Immediately, Ayda began to take note of the entity’s appearance and general mannerisms. She was feminine-presenting and humanoid, with light-red skin, elven ears, and horns, which implied that she was a tiefling. However, tieflings were not equivalent to devils, and it seemed incredibly strange that Ayda could have summoned one on accident. Furthering the confusion, the tiefling was wearing a leather jacket, fishnet-style tights, a choker necklace, a t-shirt, and the skirt from what looked like it may have, in another life, been a part of a school uniform. Additionally, there was a musical instrument slung across her back. Ayda also noticed that the arrangement of features on the tiefling’s face were rather aesthetically pleasing, though she opted not to jot that down.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” The tiefling waved a hand in front of Ayda’s face. While Ayda was taking notes, the tiefling had stepped out of the summoning circle, which was deeply alarming. Also, she was looking at Ayda with a thoroughly indecipherable expression. It occurred to Ayda that she may have been acting impolite.

“Ah. I believe I may have committed a faux pas. Sincerest apologies,” (were you allowed to apologize to devils? Was that an issue? Ayda was pretty sure it was the fey where you had to be careful with that sort of thing, but she wasn’t positive) “... Are you Gorthalax the Insatiable?”

Some devils could take different forms. It was, Ayda realized, entirely possible that this was Gorthalax himself, but that the demon was currently in disguise. Or perhaps this was always his form and some unknown factor had caused him to be misdocumented throughout the ages.

But the tiefling (Gorthalax?) shook her head. She also averted her eyes, and a dark tint came into her cheeks. “Uh, no.” The tiefling (not Gorthalax) tugged at the hem of her skirt and adjusted the collar of the jacket, then straightened up a bit. It was, for once, an expression Ayda recognized, though only because it was one she often practiced herself. The tiefling, if Ayda’s hypothesis was correct, was attempting to put on a mask of composure.

This was further supported when a bit of flame appeared at the tip of her finger. She made a finger-gun and pointed it at Ayda, who stepped back slightly in alarm despite the knowledge that she was immune to fire damage. “No, I’m the new prince of the bottomless pit.” Her voice cracked slightly on the word “new”, and she cleared her throat before saying, “I’m Fig the Infaethable.”

“Ah. Could you spell ‘Infaethable’ for me, please?” Ayda asked, her pen at the ready.

“Yeah, sure. I-N-F-A-E-T-H-A-B-L-E. D’ya want my autograph, too?”

“Are you offering to sign my notes as a gift?”

“... I mean, yes, if you want to put it like that?”

“Then no, absolutely not. I am in no position to be in debt to a devil of the nine hells.”

The tiefling— Fig the Infaethable— shrugged, blew out the flame on her fingertip, and stuck her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. “So, why’d ya summon me?”

“Well, I was rather hoping to summon Gorthalax the Insatiable, but I take it from the fact that you now hold the title ascribed to him that you have in some way disposed of him and taken his position as an archdevil. I am currently conducting a course of study regarding the historical roles of archdevils and their interactions with the material plane, and intended on utilizing Gorthalax as a primary source,” Ayda said. It had been an incredibly difficult thing to track down a book with a proper devil summoning spell in it. As a graduate student and as an employee of the library, Ayda Aguefort had access to many books. But the books that taught one how to summon devils were not to be found on shelves; they were the sort of thing that generally required theft or persuasion to attain, and Ayda was not particularly proficient with stealth or charisma.

“I mean, like, I’m an archdevil,” Fig the Infaethable said, “and I know some pretty fuckin’ sick stories about Gorthalax. Oh, and I have the whole devil-library-thing. So like, I could help you. Maybe. If you’re looking for someone who’s an archdevil. Actually, nevermind, it’s stupid—”

Ayda held up her hand and Fig the Infaethable fell silent. “A fascinating proposition.” The metaphorical wheels in her mind began to turn. Fig the Infaethable was obviously a newer archdevil, so she would have the advantage of an outsider’s perspective and the ability to tell what was and was not worth discussing. Also, the idea of a tiefling girl that did not look to be much older than Ayda herself serving in the role of an archdevil of the nine hells was a novelty all on its own. With proper investigation into Fig the Infaethable’s past, Ayda could very well catalogue the existence of an entirely new demon, and provide a heretofore unprecedented insight into the process of becoming an archdevil, something that wizardly scholars on the material plane had precious little information on. It was a fascinating proposition indeed. And Ayda already had the offering for Gorthalax prepared. Perhaps with slight modification, it could serve as a satisfactory offering for Fig the Infaethable instead.

“I am interested in your offer,” Ayda said. “However, as I mentioned before, I am in no position to be indebted to an archdevil, or, in fact, to anyone, ever. I had an item prepared for Gorthalax the Insatiable that I was planning to offer in exchange for his cooperation in this research. If you would be willing to accept this offering and, in return, provide your insight and experiences towards the development of the field of devilish studies and, in fact, to advance the material plane’s knowledge of the nine hells as a whole, I would find that exchange favorable. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

“What kind of offering are we talking here?” Somewhere over the course of Ayda’s internal thought process, Fig the Infaethable had procured some sort of hand-rolled cigarette and was now smoking it. The smoke smelled more like a campfire than like a cigarette.

“This,” Ayda said, and she procured the ruby from the small box in which it had resided for the three weeks since she’d obtained it. “It is a whole ruby imbued with magical energy. I have been informed by an appraiser that it could serve as a fine conduit—” Ayda paused. Fig the Infaethable, her eyes wide, was stumbling back from the ruby, her hands up in a defensive stance. “Have I done something to frighten or displease you?”

Fig shook herself once more, then said, her voice shaky, “I— what? No. I’m fine! I  _ love  _ rubies. Super great rocks. Not freaky at all. Uh, hey, you’re not planning on sucking me into that, yeah?”

“... No, I have no intentions to bind you to this ruby. Or, in fact, to any other precious mineral. I am merely suggesting a simple trade of this magically valuable item in return for relevant information. Do you find these terms acceptable? I’ve drafted a contract, ahead of time, though I suppose I will need to change the name to reflect the currently involved parties.” A quick Prestidigitation cleaned the paper of mentions of “Gorthalax the Insatiable,” and Ayda penned in “Fig the Infaethable” in its place. “If you accept the terms of this contract, we can both sign and, if you would like, shake hands to seal our agreement.”

“Um…” Fig took the contract from Ayda’s outstretched hand, scanned it with her (deep-red, obviously clever) eyes, and then nodded once. “Yeah, this sounds good. And I think I have to ask this: you’re sure you don’t want to, uh, become a warlock? I think I would be a pretty rad patron.”

Ayda made note of the implication that Fig was not currently a warlock patron, but refrained from commenting on this fact. “I already have access to sufficient magical ability through my studies.”

“Yeah, cool. That’s cool. Good stuff. Can I use your pen?”

Ayda nodded curtly and handed over the pen. With a flourish, Fig signed the document. Her signature was spiky and quick; the penmanship of someone who had signed things before. Ayda looped her own signature next to it and held out her hand.

Fig took it. Her hand was warm, but Ayda’s was warmer.

“Then we have a deal,” Ayda nodded. She handed Fig the ruby, which Fig held delicately between two fingers and dropped into her skirt pocket. 

“Cool.”

“Indeed.” 

The rest of the night, Fig gave long, detailed responses to Ayda’s questions. She had a tendency to go on tangents, but her answers provided a wealth of information that Ayda, a mortal who would ideally never end up in the nine hells, could otherwise never have been privy to. It did seem that she was perhaps avoiding discussing the circumstances under which she’d become archdevil, but when Ayda attempted to push the subject, Fig’s answers became curt. As Fig seemed thoroughly willing to answer nearly every other question Ayda asked, she decided to cut her losses and focus on the structural questions. It was fine. That was, after all, what her thesis was about.

Still, though. Ayda couldn’t help but wonder.


	2. Follow-Up Questions

Adaine Abernant was truly the ideal roommate. If Ayda had more time on her hands, she would perhaps develop a roommate-ranking matrix of some sort, in order to obtain quantitative proof that Adaine was the greatest roommate. As was, she did not have that sort of time, but she could still isolate several of Adaine’s traits that contributed to her… good-roommate-ness. She always had her rent payments prepared on time, even though Ayda was unsure of where precisely she obtained such money. She was a prodigy of a wizard and willing to discuss all matters of magical inquiry with Ayda. She did not have any loud guests over, for sexual fulfillment or otherwise. And, of course, she was also not around very often, leaving Ayda with plenty of time and space to, say, summon a devil without concerns of causing a disturbance.

As such, it came as a great surprise the following morning when Ayda emerged from her room to see Adaine at the kitchenette, holding a steaming mug, with both eyebrows raised.

“You had a guest over last night,” Adaine said, an unidentifiable lilt in her voice, “Did you have fun?”

“Ah, my apologies. I was not aware that you were also in the apartment last night, and did not hear your arrival when you presumably returned from yet another of your days-long outings. How were your travels?” Ayda asked. She was not  _ deflecting _ , per say. She knew that it was good etiquette, when one’s best (and only) friend came home after a mysterious, possibly oracle-related outing, to discuss said outing with said best (and only) friend.

“It was fine,” replied Adaine, vague as ever about her travels. “Nothing too out-of-the-ordinary. So, your guest from last night. Are they still here, or did they slip away sometime after I fell asleep?”

“... We are currently the only two individuals in this apartment.”

“Understood.” Adaine sipped her tea and continued to attempt to make eye contact with Ayda, who averted her gaze.

“I am going to retrieve breakfast and then return to my room to consume said breakfast and continue work on my thesis. I am glad to hear that your travels went well.”

With that, Ayda retrieved two of the nutritional (if bland) cereal bars that comprised the first meal of each of her days. As she retreated into her room once more, Adaine’s voice chimed in again from behind her.

“I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there!”

Ayda was not putting herself out there. She was summoning a devil of the Nine Hells in here, which was effectively the opposite of putting oneself out anywhere, since it by nature of being in here was in no way out there. Or, she  _ had _ summoned a devil of the Nine Hells in here. She did not have any plans to do so once more. The ruby had taken a truly inordinate amount of Ayda’s time and funding to locate and obtain, and she did not have another sufficient bartering chip with which to persuade the archdevil Fig the Infaethable to enter a contract. Even if she had been a good conversational partner, and a vibrant storyteller. Even if she had been “cool” in a way Ayda couldn’t quite put a finger on but wanted (desperately, hungrily, with the same gnawing curiosity that led her into higher and higher education in the first place) to see more of.

Even if Ayda maybe had some follow-up questions regarding the court system of the Nine Hells, subpoenas, and the role of devils as instruments of order in contrast to demons as instruments of chaos. Which could enhance her thesis and push it even further into the sphere of academic influence.

But she wasn’t going to just summon an archdevil twice. The first time around, it seemed, she had managed to successfully exit the interaction with her soul intact and all of her blood still inside her body. And she had obtained a frankly priceless knowledge of what went on in the Nine Hells that would allow her to write a paper of unprecedented depth on the subject. To summon Fig again would be foolish; hubristic, even.

And yet, Ayda’s eyes couldn’t help but drift towards the center of the room. To the circular rug under which lay a complicated series of chalk runes surrounding a pentacle. It wasn’t like Ayda had any use for it, now. Hypothetically her devil-summoning days-- well, day-- had come and gone. But last night, when she finally ran out of questions and Fig started yawning and Ayda asked her to leave and then Ayda was in her room alone again and it felt more empty than ever… well, she couldn't bring herself to clean up the pentacle just yet. After all, she’d been tired. So she’d pulled the rug atop it and left it alone.

Fig had insisted that she wasn’t tired.

Ayda had discussed yawning as a contagious behavior, but also pointed out that Fig had definitely yawned first.

Fig had told her that archdevils didn’t get tired.

Ayda asked her if that was true; the idea was disputed by scholars.

Fig had refused to commit one way or the other. But she’d also yawned some more. And when Ayda had pushed her on the subject, she’d admitted that she was maybe a little bit tired. If only from doing so much nerd stuff. And then, finally, she’d left.

Now, Ayda wondered if she’d made it home safe. Which was silly. It was an incredibly silly thing to worry about. Well, no, Ayda wasn’t  _ worried _ about an  _ archdevil  _ of the  _ Nine Hells. _ Because that would be thoroughly illogical. Even if Fig died, she would presumably just reform in the Nine Hells. Unless she died in the Nine Hells. But maybe if Ayda had messed up the runes, Fig could have ended up in the wrong layer. Maybe she was sent somewhere dangerous. It would be… of poor academic integrity, to cause the death of a primary source. Certainly not unheard of. Okay, with wizards, it wasn't even uncommon. But it went against Ayda’s moral values.

So it was absolutely a matter of academic integrity when Ayda rolled up the rug once more to inspect the runes. She was a scholar of values and morals and the like. Obviously.

But then, there, poking out between two of the poorly-spaced floorboards that were trademarks of Ayda and Adaine’s cheap apartment, Ayda noticed a glint of red. There was something stuck there. Upon closer inspection, Ayda managed to extract the item from the floor: a guitar pick, ruby-red, inscribed in Common with the words “Gorthalax’s Girl”.

There was only one being that Ayda could think of who that pick could belong to. So maybe it was good that she hadn’t erased the runes, after all. She certainly didn’t want to accidentally steal something from an archdevil.

Later, once Ayda heard the telltale sounds of Adaine departing on whatever nightly oracle business she was getting up to this evening, she set up the candles, touched up the runes, and read aloud the incantations. This time, though, the ritual went a little differently. Rather than a puff of smoke preceding the appearance of Fig the Infaethable, she appeared instead in a column of flame. She also looked different: she looked significantly older, closer to her late 30s than the 20something that Ayda had previously placed her as. Her horns were longer, her skin was redder, and her eyes were a pure, inky black.

_ "What puny mortal dares summon Fig the Infaethable?! _ ” Fig’s voice boomed. Her mouth did not actually appear to be moving, which implied the usage of a Minor Illusion spell, which implied either that Fig was a warlock of some sort or that her powers as an archdevil allowed her access to such magic. Either way, it was intriguing. Also, she’d lit the corner of one of Ayda’s papers on fire. A quick Prestidigitation extinguished the flame before it did any real damage. 

“You’ve altered your appearance,” Ayda noted.

“Oh!” This time, Fig’s mouth moved, and her voice was its usual volume. “It’s you.”

With a shifting like melting ice, Fig’s new face and body melted back into the one that Ayda was familiar with.

“A masterful usage of the Disguise Self spell,” Ayda said.

“Gee, thanks,” Fig said, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket and lighting it with a fingertip. “So, why’d you summon me again?”

“You left your guitar pick behind.” Ayda held it out in front of her.

“Oh, sick, thank you!”

Her hand brushed Ayda’s when she plucked the pick from her outstretched fingertips. Ayda attempted to catalogue every aspect of the brief sensation of touch. It felt rather similar to casting magic, or perhaps engulfing her hand in flame, or perhaps crying.

“Uh, you don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna. That’s totally cool. But why do a whole summoning just to give me my pick back? Most people maybe woulda kept it.”

“Are you asking me to partake in an equivalent exchange of information?”

“... Okay, sure. Is that like twenty questions? Because I had a guy try that with me once--”

“Twenty questions certainly seems excessive, though you may prove otherwise over the course of the evening. We don’t need to predetermine the number of questions ahead of time. As long as we keep the quantity equivalent, there should be no issues of anyone owing any additional information to anyone else. I do not have a proper offering for you this time, and as such information about myself and my thought processes and whatnot is all I can offer in exchange for similar information about yourself. Given that I am a fairly prodigious and learned wizard, I believe that knowledge about me holds a sufficient amount of value. Do you agree?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, I agree.”

Once more, they shook hands. For aesthetic effect, Ayda engulfed their handshake in flame. To prove that her wizardly knowledge was great and valuable, of course. Not to show off or anything.

“Okay. First question.” Ayda retrieved a notebook and quickly sketched two columns, one labelled FIG and one labelled AYDA. She put a single tally mark under the FIG column. “You asked why I summoned you here to return your pick to you. My answer has several components. First and foremost, I returned the pick because if I am in possession of something that belongs to you that you have not offered freely and I have not given something equivalent in return, I have committed theft and am therefore in your debt. Secondly, I summoned you here because I have no other means of contacting you, and additionally because it costs me effectively nothing to complete this ritual, given that I already have all of the components and given that rituals drain little to no magical energy from me. Third of all, to be fully truthful, the text on the pick implies a connection between you and the former archdevil Gorthalax the Insatiable that I was deeply curious about.”

Fig nodded.

“Now I will ask my question. Given that you have up to this point been highly evasive about the relationship between you and Gorthalax the Insatiable, and given that your question did not cost all that much for me to answer, I will attempt to ask a question of similar value. Are you a fallen angel, or were you born of one or more mortal parents?”

Fig took a long drag on her campfire-cigarette and eyes the doors and the window. After a moment she said, “One mortal parent.”

“So you’re a tiefling?”

“I think, by your rules, it’s my turn to ask a question now.”

Ayda shook herself a bit. Typical, for her to draft a contract and then allow her own curiosity to bring her to nearly violate its terms immediately. “You are absolutely correct. Ask away.”

“Are you gonna put my name in your thesis?”

“I was intending on doing so, yes. It would throw my credibility into question if I did not. This is much of why I asked you for the spelling of ‘Infaethable” beforehand.”

At the mention of her title, something in Fig shifted slightly, and she nodded once.

“Are you a tiefling?” Ayda repeated.

“Yeah. Are you a harpy?”

“No. I have human arms. Additionally, I cannot sing particularly well.”

“I’ve never met a harpy,” Fig admitted. 

“I have done extensive research on them. I share a great many traits with harpies, but we have a few key biological differences.” Since Fig had not expended a question to ask about this, Ayda did not offer up any more of the biological differences.

And so the night went. Ayda learned that Fig was primarily a bard, that she wrote songs on bass guitar, that she had a last name, that she’d gone to high school. In response, Ayda offered up her natural knack for divination, the meaning of several of her runic tattoos, her job at the library, her favorite spell. They went on like this, in this odd dance, until the tally marks surpassed twenty and kept on going.

Eventually, once more, Fig yawned.

“Do you sleep?” Ayda asked.

“Yeah,” Fig said, looking away as she did. There was a mortality implied, here, that they’d been toeing around all night. Once more, Ayda couldn’t tell what the expression on Fig’s face meant, not really. “Do you think I’m weird?” she asked, after some heavy silence.

Ayda paused for a second. “I think you’re fascinating.”

They held eye contact for a moment, and then another, and then another. And then Fig stood, hopped into the summoning circle, and disappeared.

Well, shit. She still owed Ayda a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! i doubt i'll be able to keep daily updates going, but we'll see.


	3. Research Methods

There was still, of course, a major gap in Ayda Aguefort’s knowledge of the archdevil Fig the Infaethable: the nature of her relationship to Gorthalax the Insatiable. This was information that Fig was obviously not going to offer freely. If it held significant value to her, which it seemed as though it did, it would be only fair for Ayda to offer something of significant value in return. The obvious impulse was to go with a traditional fiendish offering: a soul, blood, or some sort of precious gem. However, Fig was not a traditional fiend. It seemed only right that she should receive a similarly nontraditional offering.

Ayda knew the following things about Fig’s personal interests: 

  1. She played the bass guitar.



End of list.

Fig already had a bass guitar. Thankfully, though, the university had a whole post-graduate program of people who knew more about Things and the creation of them than Ayda did. And one of them owed Ayda a favor. 

This was how she found herself in the artificing building, on the third floor, in the fifth room on the left, standing behind Gorgug Thistlespring. He had large headphones on, entirely covering his ears, and even from a distance she could hear loud music emitting from them. The one and only time she’d asked Gorgug about the music he listened to while working, he listed a number of historical torture techniques, all with the word “metal” afterwards. Ayda preferred to work in absolute silence, but this was just one of many ways in which the two of them were dissimilar. 

His large frame was hunched over an almost comically short workshop table, where he appeared to be working on a wheel-cover, as in a cover for a steering wheel for a car. Given that these were typically, in Ayda’s experience, made from cloth, she was not sure precisely why a soldering tool was required, but this was why they each kept to their own disciplines. She did not have the physical awareness for artificing. If Gorgug studied wizardry, his immense power would surely end the world. 

They kept in their own lanes.

After what may have been several minutes of head-banging and soldering, Gorgug finally noticed Ayda’s presence. He tapped at his crystal and pulled his headphones down, so they rested on his neck. 

“Ayda, hey!”

“Hello, Gorgug. How is the ‘Hang-Van’ progressing?”

“It’s going pretty well… I think. Zaphriel always says ‘it’s cool’ when I ask him for a diagnostic, so…” he shrugged.

“Ah, yes, that does seem potentially prohibitive.”

“Yeah, but he’s a pretty chill dude.”

“Understood.” Ayda had conversed with Zaphriel, the Spirit of Endless Sky Towards Late Afternoon on a Day at the Beach with Your Feet in the Warm Sand, Just Being Chill as Hell trapped in a sapphire, two times. The first time, Gorgug had been looking for Adaine to cast an “Identify” spell on the sapphire when he’d first found it, nearly a year ago at this point. Since Adaine was, as was common for her, “out”, Ayda cast the spell in her stead. The second time was a few months later, back when Ayda had just begun gathering sources for her thesis. Zaphriel provided some useful corroboration to her reading on the ways in which angels became devils, but he’d also talked about the beach a lot. So the interaction had been sort of a net zero. Ayda wasn’t particularly fond of the beach.

“So…” Gorgug trailed off, glancing back down at his wheel cover. Ayda snapped her fingers, and he looked back up at her.

“I would like to redeem the favor you owe me.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! What are you thinking?”

“I need a… gift… for someone who is incredibly cool. They are a musician, but it appears that they already have all of the supplies that they need to continue this craft. I require some sort of sufficiently valuable offering as to appropriately warrant something valuable in return. For someone cool. And also maybe like, a nice gift. Hypothetically.”

“So a gift for a cool person?”

Was Fig a person? How was Ayda defining personhood? Did it relate to mortality, or primarily residing on the material plane? It was an interesting question, and she’d surely read an academic article on it once, though she couldn’t quite remember what the verdict had been. She’d have to find it again and see how much she agreed. She was pretty sure the article had been in reference to the personhood of ghosts and beings in the afterlife, not to archdevils, but it could be a decent foundation for further defining of terms.

“Uh, Ayda?”

“Oh, apologies. Yes. A gift for a cool person.”

“Okay… like, some jumping shoes? I made some of those once, and they turned out pretty good.”

“Hmm… no, I don’t think that is of sufficient value.”

“They were pretty cool, but okay. What about a big sword?”

“I do not think this person has a need for weaponry.”

“Is it for,” he leaned forward and lowered his voice slightly, although it was still fairly loud and they were in an empty room, “an _anniversary_ gift? Because I can make metal flowers.”

Ayda could feel herself growing even warmer than usual, and she was pretty sure her flaming hair had just flared up a bit. “No. I am not in a romantic relationship with this person. But they are incredibly cool. What are things that cool people like, Gorgug?”

“How ‘bout a skateboard?”

“... This seems like a possibility. Could you put some sort of enchantment on it?”

Gorgug shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

“Incredible. Thank you.”

“No problem. I can drop it by your place by tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that would be perfect.”

Tomorrow night, then. Ayda could make it to tomorrow night. It was approximately thirty-two hours, many of which she could pass by sleeping. Sleeping and having completely normal dreams, just like she had the past two nights, that didn’t involve hands or horns or anything of the sort.

Definitely.

* * *

Gorgug dropped off the skateboard a few hours later than he’d said, but on the correct day, which was fairly good for Gorgug. However, there was a slight complication: Adaine was in the apartment again, and she made it to the door before Ayda could. Which meant that she now knew that Ayda had obtained a magical skateboard.

“Are you attempting to become a _skater_?” She asked, both eyebrows high. She was attempting to lean against Ayda’s bedroom’s door frame, but there was an obvious tension in her frame that conveyed a general lack of experience in the field of leaning on door frames.

There were several options here. First off, she could come clean and admit that she was offering it to an archdevil in return for information. This would require admitting both that she had summoned an archdevil in their apartment, which did not seem like particularly good roommate etiquette, and that she was planning on summoning an archdevil for the third time, which would require Ayda to admit this fact out loud, which would likely prompt some self-reflection that Ayda had so far been diligently avoiding. Another option was to concoct some sort of clever excuse to throw Adaine off her scent. The third option was to take the ready-made excuse Adaine had just offered.

“Yes. I have commissioned an enchanted skateboard from Gorgug Thistlespring in order to learn how to ride a skateboard.”

“... Huh.” Adaine tilted her head. Ayda tried to school her features into those of someone who was attempting to learn to ride a skateboard. After a moment of staring, Ayda’s deception overcame Adaine’s insight.

“Well… that could be a useful skill. You know, I have a friend who used to skateboard, if you wanted some lessons. She can be a bit hard to pin down, but if you’d like, I could reach out.”

In any other circumstance, this sentiment would be deeply heart-touching for Ayda, and would likely lead to an outburst of fiery tears. Bu right now, Ayda could feel the consequences of the lie branching out; she could feel how easy it would be for this to get out of control. “While I greatly appreciate the sentiment, I am firmly set on acquiring this skill myself. I am going to leave now, in fact, to… begin my training. Goodbye.”

Ayda turned and plunged the rest of the way into her room and, once Adaine turned to leave, slammed the door. She shoved the summoning book containing the ritual, some chalk, the candles, and the freshly crafted Skateboard of Sickness into a bag, and then she darted out of the apartment.

* * *

It was midnight by the time Ayda finally flew over a skatepark that looked abandoned. She was probably going to have to spend a spell slot to make it home, because she’d flown so far that her wings were rather sore. It seemed incredibly strange that there were so many people, mostly teenagers, out skateboarding on a weeknight. But here, a few towns away, she’d managed to find a skatepark that may have been condemned but was, at least, empty. 

She’d only done the ritual twice, now, but she’d been staring at the sigils upon which Fig had appeared so intensely over the past few days that drawing them was significantly easier, this time. Once she’d finished the chalk-drawing, though, she couldn’t quite bring herself to light the candles; couldn’t quite start the chanting.

It was odd, really. An anomaly. She cast a quick Identify spell on herself, because she felt so strange, but it came up clean. Which meant there was really no logical explanation at all as to why her stomach felt so odd. As to why she felt compelled to check her hair in her crystal, or to worry about the appropriate-ness of her outfit. The only reason she could think of for this was that she was casting a ritual outside of the safety of her room, where anyone could interrupt or corrupt it. That must have been it, surely. Which was silly. Because there were very few beings around here more powerful than Ayda Aguefort.

With that knowledge in mind, she began the ritual.

This time, there was a gap of approximately seven seconds between Ayda’s completion of the chant and Fig’s appearance. In those seven seconds, Ayda felt quite possibly the closest she ever had felt to seeing not just this life, but in fact all of her lives before, flash before her eyes. But just as a shutdown began to creep over her, there was a sound: a deep, bone-shaking, absolutely sick musical note. Sparks showered up, in reverse, from the center of the pentacle. And then Fig the Infaethable was there, plucking out a solo on her bass.

Ayda could do nothing but stand, transfixed, and watch Fig shred. She really did know her way around the instrument, that much was obvious. Also, watching the ease with which she plucked out notes and strummed out chords made something inside Ayda thrum right along with the bassline.

When Fig was finished, Ayda couldn’t think to do anything but applaud. It didn’t feel like the precise correct reaction, not really, but it was the best she could come up with.

Fig gave a shallow bow, swung the bass around so it was hanging on her back, and ran a hand through her hair. “Hey,” she said, jerking her head at Ayda.

“Hello.”

“Change of venue, huh?”

“... Yes.”

“This seems like a more appropriate place to summon a devil, honestly.”

“Was my room insufficient or unprofessional?” Ayda asked, immediately. How clean had it been? Had she dusted beforehand? She could immediately visualize at least a half dozen ways in which her room was embarrassing, lame, and weird.

Fig shook her head, though. “No, no! It was cool. I liked it. This place just has that vibe.”

“Okay. So, to clarify, my room was not embarrassing, lame, or weird.”

Letting out a gentle laugh, Fig shook her head again. “Your room wasn’t embarrassing, lame, or weird.”

“Understood.”

“So, uh… do you skate?”

“No, I do not know how to ride a skateboard. I once attempted, many years ago, to ride what I believe is called a penny-board— it was a very small skateboard— but my talons scratched the ground and it proved an inefficient means of travel. Also, I have wings.” Ayda unfurled them for emphasis.

“Yeah, that makes sense. So, like, why are we in a skatepark, then?”

It was right there, on the tip of Ayda’s tongue, the deal. She would provide Fig with the Skateboard of Sickness in exchange for information on her relationship with Gorthalax. It was an equivalent trade. They’d been doing trades so far, and it had gone well. Besides the more surface-level question Fig still owed her, they were even. Neither in debt to the other. With this established rapport, it should have been perfectly fine to ask Fig for this information, which she had heretofore been evasive regarding. Ayda was offering a valuable item that she’d traded in a favor from a skilled artificer for. It was fine, to ask. 

But she couldn’t help but remember Fig’s response, the first time she’d asked. Reading faces was not one of Ayda’s best skills. But Fig had turned away, and her answers had grown curt, and she was showing all of the signs of not wanting to engage with the topic. Which meant it was likely a sore subject.

And here Fig was, having just plucked out a sweet bass solo for Ayda, glancing around the abandoned skatepark with an air of hungry curiosity. By all signs, in a good mood. Her hair was done nicely, in two braids, and she was wearing a studded leather jacket and fishnets, as usual, but she was also wearing a dress, distressed so that Ayda could see glimpses of her pale red skin poking through at her stomach and at her thighs.

Ayda didn’t want to ask about Gorthalax.

Fig had asked a question, though. So Ayda opened her mouth, and what came out was: “I have had a skateboard crafted for you. Do you know how to ride a skateboard?”

And Fig smiled, and replied, “Yeah, I skate. Ayda, is this a gift?” There was something sharp, in that smile, and Ayda could hear the echo of her own words.

“... No, because that would put you in my debt, and besides you are already in my debt for the sum of one question, and it seems thoroughly inappropriate for an archdevil to be in debt to a graduate student. I would not want to put you in that position. In exchange for providing you ownership of the Skateboard of Sickness, you will teach me the basics of riding a skateboard. If you find these terms acceptable, we can shake, or we could enter a verbal contract, if you’d prefer, or I suppose I could draft up something—”

“A handshake works!” Fig said, and she stuck out her palm, and she was still smiling. Ayda grasped it one more, and they shook, and it was as fiery as ever, and Fig lingered, just for a moment or two, after they’d pumped up and down three times, and then Ayda drew away.

“So, can I see this board?”

* * *

Ayda did not leave the night with further knowledge of Fig the Infaethable’s relationship with Gorthalax the Insatiable. Instead, she gained two new sorts of knowledge. The first of these was a basic skateboarding ability. Given that, by the end of the night, Ayda did not, in fact, possess a skateboard, this was not necessarily a particularly useful skill. The second sort of knowledge was much more useful. It was the way Fig’s hair looked, fresh out of braids, whipping in the night breeze. It was the sound of Fig’s laugh. It was the way she swore when she fell down. It was the way her hands felt on Ayda’s waist, as she corrected her stance. It was the way she picked an ashen eyelash off of Ayda’s cheek and told her to make a wish on it.

It was preliminary research on the… physical abilities of this new archdevil.

It was purely academic.

She had to remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh!!! thank you to everyone who commented on the first two chapters, it gave me the motivation to finally sit down and finish this one. not sure when the next update will come, because stuff continues to be pretty hectic in my life rn, but stay tuned! <333

**Author's Note:**

> not sure precisely what the update schedule is gonna be for this baby but i know where it's going and i'm excited to show y'all!


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